*
* A Story of Patriarchal Times. ft
ftft
* ftft
By JULIA MAGRUDER , . ft
COPTniGHTED 1600 , 1891 AMD 1600 BY ROBERT BOKNEU'S SONS.
CHAPTER VII. ( Continued. )
Then-the face of eac'h turned to each ,
and long time they gazed into each
other's eyes , as though their very
souls were bared unto each other. Then
silently their arms entwined , and softly
their lips met and pressed and clung ;
and so rested they , still upon their
knees , for the moment was sacred at
once to love and to death. The thought
of what was to.come was in the heart
of'each , end cast around them a great
awe that seemed to wrap them in ; but
even over this their pure love tri
umphed , and the man and the maiden
were shown therein the truth of Na-
marah's words , that love is stronger
than death.
Then Adina lifted up his voice and
prayed.
And Namarah , in her gentle voice ,
which the words of Adina's prayer
made now to tremble , answered even
also , "Amen. "
After they got them to their feet
and went in search of the maiden's
father Jephthah , that they might speak
unto him cheering words and comfort
him with-the comfort wherewith their
souls within them had been comforted.
And Namarah spoke unto her father
Jephthah , and said :
"Let this thing be done for me : let
me alone two months , that I may go
up and down upon the mountains , and
bewail my unhappy lot. "
And he said :
"Go. "
And after this , behold , the face of the
maiden was no longer sorrowful , but
ever there beamed forth from it a most
calm and shining light that even com
forted the hearts of all who gazed on
her.
CHAPTER VIII.
On the evening of - thereturn from
battle of the hosts of Jephthah-
Gileadite , Namarah went , as was her
wont , to feed her doves , and as she
stood among them , more white than
was the gown she wore , there came
to her , down the garden-walk , through
the parted branches of the trees , the
young man Adina.
Now , Namarah knew that he would
come , even at this time and place , but
her heart within her trembled , and the
color was not so far gone from out her
cheek but that his coming called it
back , like to a rose in bloom.
Adina , who had rested from his
traveling and refreshed himself , was
clad this evening , like Namarah , all in
white , in a stately robe that swathed
his stalwart body from the shoulder to
the sandals on his feet. His beautiful
strong young arms were hid beneath
its folds , until , as he came up to where
the maiden stood , he reached them
out and folded her tenderly and
strongly against his breast.
"Hurt not the bird , Adina , " she said ,
slowly , as he held her there and knew
not to distinguish between the flutter
ing of the dove and the beating of ths
maiden's heart. "It is even thy little
messenger , which did company thee
upon thy dangerous wanderings and
bring me the message of thy heart to
mine. "
"How knowest thou it is the same ,
Namarah , " he made answer , "seeing
that these snow-white birds of thine
are like as be garden-lilies ? " And as
he spake , he held her still with one
strong arm , while the other hand he
laid above her little one that gently
smoothed the ruffled plumage of the
frightened bird.
"I knew it even by its travel-stains
and by its broken feathers. See , the
birdling hath e'en suffered in our ser
vice , " and , as she spake , she lifted it
and kissed it tenderly , at which Adina
swiftly bent his tall head and kissed
the very spot whereon her lips had
lain upon the bird , saying as he did so :
"Thy kisses are all mine , Namarah ,
and I must even take back the one that
thou hast given to the bird. It was
ill done of thee to besow it on another
than him to whom it doth by right be
long. Rw .ease the bird that'hath too
long engaged the touches of thy hands ,
for these be mine also , and to-night I
long for all thy love , seeing that my
"heart within me is like to burst with
sorrow. "
Then Namarah swiftly loosed the
bird , which flew away and vanished
from their sight , even as the maiden
threw her arms about her lover's neck
and yielded herself to his most sweet
embrace.
"I pray thee sorrow not , Adina , my
beloved. " She spake low. "Thine am
I for 'eternity , and Heaven's joys can
never end. Wilt thou not strive to give
me strength to do the thing that lies
before me ? Pray for courage for both
thee and me , for love is sweet , and
death seems cruel. "
"Ay , death is cruel , cruel ! " made an
swer Adina , with that his brow grew
stern , and the very hands that were
about her soft young body clinched as
if in. anger.
' VtNowt may God forgive me , " said
Namarah , "for the evil word I spake.
It even passed the door of my lips
without mine own consent Our God is
good , Adina , and if we dishonor Him
not , by doubt of His goodness and re
bellion to- His will , He will most likely
deliver us both ; and if it pleaseth Him
to take my spirit back to Him who
gave it , and so leave thee here upon
the earth , will it seem too hard a thing
to wait with patience until the hour of
thy release from earth and flesh shall
come , when thy spirit shall again meet
mine ? "
"Too hard a thing , Namarah ! I
could wait till eternity were ended
sooner than I could love any other
maiden than thee ! "
"Ah , sweet , sweet is thy love and
loyalty beloved ! " saith Namarah ; "and
my heart is even warmed and com
forted to hear thee speak those words.
Nevertheless , there is a thing I would
have thee remember. If it should be ,
when I am dead , that thou shouldst
ever love another maiden for thou art
young , and there be others worthy of
thy love , and life alone is long and
sad I would not have thee live unwed
because of me. If thou choosest to
marry thou hast my full consent , and
even my blessing from Heaven. "
But at her words the young man
thrust her from him almost roughly ,
and turned on her the first ungentle
look his face had ever worn to her.
"Thou art unkind and cruel unto me ,
Namarah , " he said , "and thy love is
not like to mine for thee , or thou
couldst not think possible the thing
whereof thou speakest. The soul of
Adina slept within him until , at touch
of thy soul , it waked ; and it lives but
for thee alone. If thou must die , the
desire of my heart will be still to thee
alone , and my soul shall even wait for
thy soul. "
CHAPTER IX.
Then Namarah came again into his
an."S , and while they clasped her close
witn love's true tenderness , behold the
maiden began softly to weep , and said :
"I am even satisfied to die to-night ,
knowing a love like thine. If I die
and thou livest , I beseech thee that
thou wilt be even as a son unto my
father Jephthah , for his heart is brok
en within him , and by reason of his
vow he giveth up his only child. "
"That will I maiden , " saith Adina ;
"and if so be that I shall live and thou
diest , that will even be my work in
life. Ah , Namarah , my most holy and
most beauteous love , hast thou thought
upon the weariness and darkness of
the life that I will lead without thee ,
even through youth and manhood and
old age ? "
"Yea , beloved , I have thought of it , "
she answered "be sure that I Tiave
thought of it with a heart made wild
with anguish , and it seemeth unto me
that thy fate is even a harder one than
mine. But now that we have spoken
of these things , and thou knowest my
thoughts and wishes concerning thy
life , if thou are left to live it out with
out me , let us speak of it no more , and
let us even , so far as in us lies , banish
it from our thoughts. I would have
thee give me a solemn pledge that
when I depart on the morrow , I , and
the maidens that be my companions ,
thou wilt pray continually , as I shall
do , for deliverance. Kneel with me
now , Adina , and let us pray this
prayer , even in the silence of our
hearts. "
And side by side , upon the grass" be
neath the white light of the moon , they
knelt together , hand in hand , and lifted
up their hearts. So still and silent was
the night that the little brook which
ran through the garden , down at the
foot of the hill , could be heard gurg
ling over its stones , and the notes of
the doves in their house near by sound
ed mournfully and pleadingly in their
ears. The soft wind of the summer
night played lightly over their bowed
heads , ruffling Adina's golden curls and
blowing against his throat a long tress
of Namarah's silky hair. Long time
they knelt there , their bodies touching
only in that close hand-clasp , but their
souls fused into one.
When they rose from their knees and
stood erect in the pale moonlight , both
so tall and young and beautiful in their
fair white raiment , they turned and
wound their arms around each other
in an embrace of unspeakable love.
Again the night lay wrapped in silence.
Suddenly there was a fluttering above
them , and a white bird flew down and
alighted. There it nestled , with a little
plaintive moan. As the young man
and the maiden strove each to touch
and soothe its ruffled feathers , their
two hands met and clasped.
"It is the little messenger , " said Na
marah , as the bird crept closer to the
warmth of their necks , between the
arch made by their close-pressed
cheeks. "It seemeth to be restless and
unhappy. There was one of my doves
killed by a hawk one day. while this
messenger was gone with thee. Think-
est thou it could have been its mate ?
I saw the great hawk swoop down upon
it one day , as it sat alone apart from
all the rest , and before I could run to
its rescue , the poor little thing had
been carried off in those cruel claws.
Thou knowest dost thou not ? that
the dove is the image of constancy ,
and that when it once loses its mate it
takes none other evermore. "
"Even as it shall be with me , "
breathed forth Adina. "If I lose the
mate whereunto my soul is already
wed , so will I live lonely like the mati-
less bird , until mine end shall come. "
Then , while the bird still rested be
tween them , they clasped each other
closer yet , for with the rising of the
sun to-morrow Namarah and her maid
ens were to set forth unto the moun
tains , and this was their hour of part
ing.
Long time they rested there alone ,
after the bird had fluttered off to its
house , and ever the sound of its sad
complaining came unto their ears.
"It shall be my companion while
thou art gone , " said Adina , "and at
night I will take it with me , so that
its mourning shall be made against the
warmth of my heart , that hath no
voice wherewith to utter the greatness
of its woe. "
Nevertheless , I shall hear Its com
plainings even with the ears of my
soul , " said Namarah , "and my heart
shall answer them , in sounds inaudible
that thy listening soul may hear. And
now must I leave thee , beloved , for my
father waiteth for our parting to be
over , that he may even speak with me
himself. "
CHAPTER X.
At break of day next morning , Na
marah , accompanied by her maidens ,
dressed all in sad garments of mourn
ing , passed through the streets of Miz-
peh and wended their way toward the
mountains , and , as they passed along ,
behold the people came forth of their
houses to look upon them , and ever as
they saw the maidens , in their sack
cloth and ashes , men and women , and
even little children , lifted up their
voices and wept , for the vow that Jeph
thah had vowed was known unto all
the people ; also that the maiden Na
marah was gone , according unto cus
tom , to bewail upon the mountains
with the maidens , her companions.
And as the maidens walked with sad
and measured steps , the maiden Na
marah walked ever at their head , her
stately height and noble form swathed
in sackcloth. And , although the hood
of her mantle hid her face from view ,
the people said she sobbed in passing ,
because that they saw the fluttering
rise and fall of her breast beneath the
folds of her gown.
But Namarah was-not weeping. Her
brow was calm and solemn , and her
great eyes serene as be stars. Her
vigil had made her pale as the ashes
wherewith she had sprinkled her gar
ments , " but the look of her face was
strong and confident , and ever she
whispered in the silence of her heart
"He will deliver. "
As the town was left behind , and the
rugged mountain path up which they
were to wend their toilsome way was
come in view , Namarah paused , and
the maidens who followed , pausing
also , say her part the folds of her gar
ment and take therefrom the mes
senger-dove which had already served
so faithfully. She spake no word ,
neither looked she to the right nor the
left , while all the maidens wondered ,
but lifting it to her lips she gently
kissed it , then raising her arm above
her head she held it on her open palm ,
giving it a little impulse upward , at
which it spread its wings and flew ,
with a sure and steady flight backward
along the path that they had come.
Namarah stood and looked at it until
the whiteness of its feathers was even
one with the whiteness of the clouds ,
and then she turned about and began
to climb the mountain-path , her maid
ens following. Then were there tears
in her eyes , in that moment , which
overflowed and fell upon her cheek , but
no eye there was that saw them.
( To be continued. )
His Best Ideas.
That the American "man with the
hoe" does not find the life of the farm
stultifying must surely be inferred
from the words of an old tiller of the
soil , who came across a classical vol
ume and found in Plato a kindred
spirit. The good American farmer
called upon a doctor , and was ushered
into the library. At once the well-filled
book-shelves drew his attention. "Are
you fond of reading ? " asked the doc
tor , noting the wandering gaze. "Well ,
yes,1' returned the farmer , modestly.
"I should be pleased to lend you a book
to take home with you , " said the other.
"Just take any one that you think
you'd like to read. " "Oh , I'm no good
at selectin' , " replied the old man.
"You pick one out , doctor. " So the
doctor , in a spirit of fun , gave the
farmer a book written by Plato. The
old man went away , and at the end of
a week reappeared with the book un
der his arm. "Well , " queried the doc
tor , "did you read the book ? " "Yes , I
did , " was the emphatic answer. "And
what did you think of it ? " "It was
fust-rate , " responded the farmer. "I've
read it through from kiver to kiver. I
never heard tell of this fellow Plato
before , but all the same I'm glad to
find that the old chap has been writing
up some of my very best ideas. "
An Ideal of True Grentnoss.
A Cleveland paper tells a story of a
street incident which shows the ideal
of greatness which the sensational
newspapers , with their extravagant at
tention to "athletics , " are inculcating
among the street boys. Two very dirty
boys of this class were engaged in dis
figuring as much as possible every face
on the advertisements on a big bill
board. They turned the actresses into
bearded ladies , put cigars in the
mouths of respectable aged gentlemen ,
and gave Admiral Dewey a black eye.
Then one of them started with his pen
cil for a face in the middle of the
board. But the others called out :
"Hey ! Don't do anything to that ! "
"Why not ? " asked the first. "Why ,
don't you know ? That's Jeffries , the
champion ! " They left the face un-
mutilated , looked respectfully at it a
moment , and trudged along.
TALMAGE'S SEKHiON.
HARMONY AND MELODY LAST
SUNDAY'S SUBJECT.
Strong Iiillncnoe In After Year * of
Hymns Hoard and Committed to
Blemory In Karly Life The Old Fash
ioned 1'ulplt.
[ Copyright , 1000 , by Louis Klopsch. ]
Text , Psalm cxviii , 14 : 'The Lord is
my strength and song. "
The most fascinating theme for a
heart properly attuned is the Saviour.
There is something in the morning
light to suggest Him and something in
the evening shadow to speak His
praise. The flower breathes Him , the
stars shine on Him , the cascade proClaims -
Claims Him , all the voices of nature
chant Him. Whatever is grand , bright
and beautiful , if you only listen to it ,
will speak His praise. So when in the
summer time I pluck a flower I think
of Him who is "the Rose of Sharon
and the Lily of the Valley. " When I
see in the fields a lamb , I say , "Be
hold the Lamb of God that taketh
away the sin of the world. " When In
very hot weather I come under a pro
jecting cliff , I say :
Rock of ages , cleft for me.
Let me hide myself in thee !
Over the old-fashioned pulpits there
was a sounding board. The voice of
the minister rose to the sounding
board and then was struck back again
upon the ears of the people. And so
the 10,000 voices of earth rising up
find the heavens a sounding board
which strikes back to the ear of all
nations the praises of Christ. The
heavens tell His glory , and the earth
shows His handiwork. The Bible
thrills with one great story of redemp
tion. Upon a blasted and faded para
dise it poured a light of glorious re
storation. It looked upon Abraham
from the ram caught In the thicket. It
spoke in the bleating of the herds
driven down to Jerusalem for sacrifice.
It put infinite pathos -into the speech
of uncouth fishermen. It lifted Paul
into the third heaven , and it broke
upon the ear of St. John with the
brazen trumpets and the doxology of
the elders and the rushing wings of
the seraphim.
Instead of waiting until you get sick
and worn out before you sing the
praise of Christ , while your heart is
happiest and your step is lightest and
your fortunes smile and your pathway
blossoms and the overarching heavens
drop upon you their benediction , speak
the praises of Jesus.
The old Greek orators , when they
saw their audiences inattentive and
slumbering , had one word with which
they would rouse them up to the
greatest enthusiasm. In the midst of
their orations they would stop and cry
out "Marathon ! " and the people's en
thusiasm would be unbounded. My
hearers , though you may have been
borne down with sin , and though trou
ble and trials and temptation may
have come upon you , and you feel to
day hardly like looking up , methinks
there is one grand , royal , imperial
word that ought to rouse your soul to
infinite rejoicing , and that word is
"Jesus. "
Tower of the Hymn.
Taking the suggestion of the text , I
shall speak to you of Christ our Song.
I remark , in the first place , that Christ
ought to be the cradle song. What our
mothers sang to us when they put us
to sleep is singing yet. We may have
forgo.tten the words ; but they went
into the fiber of our soul and will for
ever be a part of it. It is not so
much what you formally teach your
children as what you sing to them. A
hymn has wings and can fly every
whither. One hundred and fifty years
after you are dead and "Old Mortal
ity" has worn out his chisel recut-
ting your name on the tombstone your
great-grandchildren will be singing the
song which last night you sang to your
little ones gathered about your knee.
There is a place in Switzerland , where
if you distinctly utter your voice ,
there come back ten or fifteen distinct
echoes , and every Christian song sung
by a mother in the ear of her child
shall have 10,000 echoes coming back
from all the gates of heaven. Oh , if
mothers only knew the power of this
sacred spell , how much oftener the
little ones would be gathered , and all
our homes would chime with the songs
of Jesus !
We want some counteracting influ
ence upon our children. The very mo
ment your child steps into the street
he steps into the path of temptation.
There are foul-mouthed children who
would like to besoil your little ones.
It will not do to keep you boys and
girls in the house and make them
house plants. They must have fresh
air and recreation. God save your
children from the scathing , blasting ,
damning influence of the street ! I
know of no counteracting influence but
the power of Christian culture and ex
ample. Hold before your little ones
the pure life of Jesus. Let that name
be the word that shall exorcise evil
from their hearts. Give to your in
struction all the fascination of music
morning , noon and night. Let it be
Jesus , the cradle song. This is im
portant if your children grow up , but
perhaps they may not. Their pathway
may be short. Jesus may be wanting
that child. Then there will be a sound
less step in the dwelling and the
youthful pulse will begin to flutter and
little hands will be lifted for help. You
cannot help. And a great agony will
pinch at your heart , and the cradle
will be empty , and the nursery will
be empty , and your soul will be empty.
No little feet standing on the stairs.
No toys scattered on the carpet. No
quick following from room to room. No
strange and wondering questions. No
upturned face with laughing blue eyes
come for a kiss , but only a grave and
a wreath of white blossoms on the top
of it and bitter desolation and a sigh
ing at nightfall with no one to put to
bed. The heavenly shepherd will take
that lamb safely anyhow , whether you
have been faithful or unfaithful , but
would It not have been pleasanter If
you could have heard from those lips
the praises of Christ ? I never read
anything more beautiful than this
about a child's departure. The ac
count said. "She folded her hands ,
kissed her mother good-bye , sang her
hymn , turned her face to the wall , said
her little prayer and then died. "
Oh , if I could gather up In one para
graph the last words of the little ones
who have gone out from all these
Christian circles , and I could picture
the calm looks and the folded hands
and sweet departure , methinks It
would be grand and beautiful as one
of heaven's great doxologies ! In my
parish in Philadelphia a little child
was departing. She had been sick all
her days and a cripple. It was noon
day when she went , and , as the shad
ow of death gathered on her eyelid
she thought it was evening and time
to go to bed , and so she said , "Good
night , papa ! Good night , mamma ! "
And then she was gone ! It was
"good night" to pain and "good night"
to tears and "good night" to death
and "good night" to earth , but it was
"good morning" to Jesus it was "good
morning" to heaven. I can think of
no cradle song more beautiful than
Jesus.
Songs for the Old.
I next speak of Christ as the old
man's song. Quick music loses its
charm for the aged ear. The school
girl asks for a schottlsch or a glee ,
but her grandmother asks for "Baler-
ma" or the "Portuguese Hymn. " Fifty
years of trouble have tamed the spirit ,
and the keys of the music board must
have a solemn tread. Though the
voice may be tremulous , so that grand
father will not trust it in church , still
he has the psalm book open before
him , and he sings with his soul. He
hums his grandchild asleep with the
same tune he sang forty years ago in
the old country meeting house. Some
day the choir sings a tune so old that
the young people do not know it , Uut
it starts the tears down the cheek of
the aged man , for it reminds him of
the revival scene in which he partici
pated and of the radiant faces that
long since went to dust and of the
gray haired minister leaning over the
pulpit and sounding the good tidings
of great joy.
I was one Thanksgiving day in my
pulpit in Syracuse , and Rev. Daniel
Waldo , at 88 years of age , stood beside
me. The choir sang a tune. I s"aid ,
"I am sorry they sang that new tune ;
nobody seems to know it. " "Bless you ,
my son , " said the old man , "I heard
that seventy years ago. "
There was a song today that touched
the life of the aged with holy fire
and kindled a glory on their vision
that your younger eyesight cannot see.
It was the song of salvation Jesus ,
who fed them all their lives long ;
Jesus , who wiped away their tears ;
Jesus , who stood by them when all else
failed ; Jesus , in whose name their
marriage was consecrated and whose
resurrection has poured light upon the
graves of their departed. "Do you
know me ? " said the wife to her aged
husband , who was dying , his mind al
ready having gone out. He said , "No. "
And the son said , "Father , do you
know me ? " He said , "No. " The
daughter said , "Father , do you know
me ? " He said , "No. " The minister
of the gospel , standing by , said , "Do
you know Jesus ? " "Oh , yes , " he said ,
"I know Him , 'chief among 10,000 , the
one altogether lovely ! ' " Blessed the
Bible in which spectacled old age reads
the promise , "I will never leave you ,
never forsake you ! " Blessed the staff
on which the worn out pilgrim totters
on toward the welcome of his Redeem
er ! Blessed the hymn book in which
the faltering tongue and the failing
eyes find Jesus , the old man's song !
When my mother had been put away
for the resurrection , we , the children ,
came to the old homestead , and each
one wanted to take away a memento
of her who had loved us so long and
loved us so well. I think I took away
the best of all the mementoes ; it was
the old-fashioned round-glass specta
cles through which she used to read
her Bible , and I put them on , but
they were too old for me , and I could
not see across the room. But through
them I could see back to childhood and
forward to the hills of heaven , where
the ankles that were stiff with , age
have become limber again , and the
spirit , with restored eyesight , stands
in rapt exultation , crying , "This is
heaven ! "
"Words of 1'ence.
I speak to you again of Jesus as the
night son. Job speaks of Him who
giveth songs in the night. John Welch ,
the old Scotch minister , used to put a
plaid across his bed on cold nights ,
and some one asked him why he put
that there. He said , "Oh , sometimes
in the night I want to sing the praise
of Jesus and to get down and pray.
Then I just take that plaid and wrap
it around me to keep myself from the
cold. " Songs in the night ! Night of
trouble has come down upon many of
you. Commercial losses put out ona
star , slanderous abuse puts out another
star , domestic bereavement has put out
1,000 lights , and gloom has been added
to gloom and chill to chill and sting
to sting , and one midnight has seemed
to borrow the fold from another mid
night to wrap itself in more unbeara
ble darkness , but Christ has spoken
peace to your heart , and you sing :
Jesus , lover of my soul.
Let me to thy bosom fly ,
While the billows near me roll ,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me , 0 my Saviour ! Hide
Till the storm of life In passed ,
Safe into the haven guide ;
Oh. receive my soul , at last.
Songs in the night ! Songs in the
nlg'atl For the sick , who have no ona
no ono to put
to turn the hot pillow
put
the taper on the stand , no one to
the temples or P ° ur cut
Ice on
cheerful
utter one
anodyne or
soothing
1algh
in the
Yet songs
ful word.
win
in the
For the poor , who freeze s
and swelter in the summer
tert cold
that
hard crusts
heat and munch the
shiver under
and
bleed the sore gums
he
longer
blankets that cannot any
rent day
because
patched and tremble
out on
be set
Is come and they may
into the
the sidewalk and looking
and see ng
child
starved face of the
famine there and death there , coming
home from the bakery and saying in
the presence of the little famished ones
"Oh , my God , flour has gone up ! Yet
! Songs in the
songs in the night
widow who goes to
night ! For the
get the back pay of her husband , slain
" " and knows it
by the "sharpshooters ,
is the last help she will have , moving
out of a comfortable home in desola
tion , death turning back from the ex
hausting cough and the pale cheek and
the lusterless eye and refusing all re
lief. Yet songs in the night ! Songs
In the night ! For the soldier in the
field hospital , no surgeon to bind up
the gunshot fracture , no water for the
hot lips , no kind hand to brush away
the flies from the fresh wound , no
one to take the loving farewell , the
groaning of others poured Into his own
groan , the blasphemy of others plow
ing up his own spirit , the condensed
bitterness of dying away from home
among strangers. Yet songs in the -
night ! -Songs in the night ! "Ah. "
said one dying soldier , "tell my moth
er that last night there was not one
cloud between my soul and Jesus. "
Songs in the night ! Songs in the
night !
A Christian woman , the wife of a
minister of the gospel , was dying in
the parsonage near the old church ,
where on Saturday night the choir
used to assemble and rehearse for the
following Sabbath , and she said : "How
strangely sweet the choir rehearses to
night. They have been rehearsing
there for an hour. " "No , " said some
one about her , "the choir is not re
hearsing tonight. " "Yes , " she said ,
"I know they are. I hear them sing
ing. How very sweetly they sing ! "
Now , it was not a choir of earth that
she heard , but the choir of heaven. I
think that Jesus sometimes sets ajar
the door of heaven , and a passage of
that rapture greets our ears. The
minstrels of heaven strike such a tre
mendous strain the walls of jasper
cannot hold it.
I wonder and this is a question I
have been asking myself all the serv
ice will you sing that song ? Will I
sing it ? Not unless our sins are par
doned and we learn now to sing the
praise of Christ will we ever sing it
there. The first great concert that I
ever attended was in New York when
Julien in the Crystal palace stood be
fore hundreds of singers and hundreds
of players upon instruments. Some of
you may remember that occasion. It
was the first one of the kind at which
I was present , and I shall never forget
it. I saw that one man standing and
with the hand and foot wield that
great harmony , beating .the time. It
was to me overwhelmingly. But , oh ,
the grander scene when they shall-
come from the east and from the west
and from the north and from the south
"a great multitude that no man can
number , " into the temple of the skies ,
host beyond host , rank beyond rank ,
gallery above gallery , and Jesus will
stand before that great host to con
duct the harmony with His wounded
hands and wounded feet ! Like the
voice of many waters , like the voice of
mighty thunderings , they shall cry ,
"Worthy is the Lamb that was slain
to receive blessing and riches and hon
or and glory jmd power , world without
end. Amen and amen ! " Oh , if my
ear shall hear no other sweet sounds
may I hear that ! If I join no other
glad assemblage , may I join in that.
I was reading of the battle of Agin-
court , in which Henry V. figured , and
it is said after the battle was won.
gloriously won , the king wanted to ac
knowledge the divine interposition and
he ordered the chaplain to read the
Psalm of David , and when he came to
the words , "Not unto us , O Lon' , butte
to Thy name be the praise , " the king
dismounted , and all the cavalry dis
mounted , and all the great host , offi
cers and men , threw themselves on
their faces. Oh , at the story of the
Saviour's love and the Saviour's de
liverance shall we not prostrate our
selves before Him today , hosts of
earth and hosts of heaven , falling upon
our faces and crying , "Not unto us ,
not unto us , but unto Thy name be the \
glory ! " "Until the day break and
the shadows flee away turn our
beloved and be thou like a roe or a
young hart upon the mountains of Be-
ther. "
Freakish ncs-i of Boer Hull eta.
The freakish performances of the
Mauser bullets , as reported by sur
geons from South Africa , are almost
unbelievable. Letters received from I
Mr. Frederick Treves , the eminent .
London surgeon now at the front ,
speak of one bullet which entered the
top of the head , passed down through
the brain into the mouth and finally
out at the side of the neck. A little
headache and a slight squint in one eye
were the only perceptible effects , and
recovery was complete and rapid. In
many cases the abdomen , bowels and
liver have been penetrated almost
without inconvenience. Wounds pierc
ing the lungs often give rise to nothing
more than little
a blood-stained
expec-
oration. In one phenomenal instance a
bullet entered just belovr the collar
bone , traversed the whole length of the 4'i
chest and body , emerging from the
inner side of the left thigh , without
effecting more than a little temporary
shock.
-
"A convict is
extremely
familiar with t
the stripes and bars. *